The garden was beautiful and quiet this morning.

Not the eerie kind of quiet . No.. it was a rare kind of quiet.. not just peaceful, but reverent. The sky hung really low with silver and grey clouds, making us aware of the kind of rain that normally promised to fall but never actually followed through.

The kind that watched. Waited. Listened.

I moved slowly among my delicate roses, my gloved hands cradling the stems with practiced care so as not to ruin my little ones. The petals were ...